Secrets writtten in blood
by Skaye
Summary: The secret diary of Wilhemina Harker pre League on Dorian, Dracula and all that jazz...
1. Begining of the end

Diary of Wilhemina Harker  
  
Jan 4th  
  
Dear Diary, today was next to unbearable, spent the best part of the day in Dr Langsdale's suffocating house listening to men talk of matters both boring and repetitive all because he wished me to meet some friend of his who arrived late. Master Dorian Grey turned out to be the most stuck up, rude, offensive, self important excuse for a gentleman I have ever engaged in conversation with. God, he loves the sound of his own voice and Dr Langsdale had the misguidance to call me over-opinionated! First we debated (ahem, argued) on literature, then art and finally finished on philosophy and when that cantankerous cad saw that he was losing the debate he merely shook his head and said sagely, "But of course, what does a woman know of such high points of society. Stick to your curlers and rouge and leave such subjects to those of us with the intellectual capacity for matters of any importance." And with an infuriating little half smile he swaggered off into the crowd like that settled the matter. I would have torn his throat out! How childish. That man has probably never left England in his life let alone travelled to Transylvania of all the god-forsaken places on earth to slay an un-dead monster leaving with the curse of immortality and a thirst for blood to show for the effort. Beast! He probably believes that vampyres and other immortals are children's stories. Next time, Dorian, next time I will show you...  
  
Jan 7th  
  
Dear Diary, work tedious today, lack of Dr Langsdale (his wife got sick) and Dr Sibbery (business in Berlin) meant I got stuck with the students. I was trying to show them how to perform complex surgery while they kept on fainting or vomiting at the sight of a man with his chest open. For goodness' sake, they're only organs, we all have them inside of us. All the blood made me tense, not because I mind it, I've seen enough of it but because I found myself thirsting for it. I've been a vampyre for years now, longer than Jonathan's life (he died five years ago of pneumonia aged 72, rest his soul) and I have never once given in to the blood lust. I don't want to be like Dracula. I will not be like him. He ruined my life and I let him, heavens I practically begged him to. Reincarnation is a messy business but I am not his Elisabeta, I am Mina Harker and I will remain so. With all those thoughts in my head I accidentally pierced the corpse's heart and splattered my remaining students with blood. The same thing happened to Jonathan at Lucy's staking or so I'm told. She was my best friend until Dracula bit her. As I wiped the last of the blood from my face I decided I wasn't cut out for medicine, I'm a chemist for goodness' sake not an acting babysitter for would-be surgeons who can't stand the sight of a little blood.  
  
Jan 11th  
  
Dear Diary, just when I was finally starting to forget about Grey and his "wit" I meet him stopping at the gallery on my way home from work. Looking at paintings like he was actually capable of something even close to an appreciation of art. Ha! He stopped for so long in front of my favourite picture, Millais' Mariana, that I thought he'd never leave and then, catching me looking at it, he launched into a stirring little commentary on Millais' work, Measure by Measure and 19th Century art in general. I was not fooled for a moment by this attempt at cultural affinity, I told him coldly that I merely liked the colours and the detail on the leaves, didn't ask for his opinion and furthermore that should he annoy me so in future I would slap him. That said I walked briskly out into the street leaving him (I hope) taken down a peg or two. Egocentric liar. I said I would show him and I believe I have.  
  
Jan 12th  
  
AM Dear Diary, when checking the mail this morning I found a little card, expensively gilded with a red cord border on my doorstep. It was un- adressed so delivered by hand and said in exuberant, curled letters:  
  
All right my charming art critic, let's hear you do better.  
Meet me at the gallery tonight at six then for dinner afterwards.  
Wear something elegant.  
In anticipation,  
Master Dorian Grey  
  
How presumptuous of him! I despise him, why would I want to go out to dinner with him? I might as well go just to call his bluff, he won't really be expecting me to turn up surely. It might also give me a chance to tell him what I think of his "women can't do philosophy" theory. I'll show him, I didn't defeat Dracula and get a degree in Chemistry by batting my eyelashes about. And I'll make him sorry he ever picked a fight with Wilhemina Harker.  
  
PM  
  
That snivelling swine double bluffed me and turned up! I met him at the gallery exactly on time and immaculately dressed in grey and white. I wore my usual black (I still consider myself in mourning for Jonathan) but a little more daring and elegant than usual. He raised an eyebrow (I could have shot him for it) and offered me his arm. I chose to walk un-supported, however, as I didn't want him to get the impression that I was just another silly girl of glass. We walked around the gallery for hours talking about the various paintings. After that he took me to a restaurant for dinner and we debated some more, this time on literature again. By the time the meal was over I almost caught myself enjoying his company! Despite his sickening superior attitude he makes good conversation and I was genuinely interested in his viewpoints on philosophy. He seemed pessimistic and cynical. Almost amusing. He walked me to my door and bowed like a nobleman. I knew this was only to tease me, I was getting used to it by now but on the way up, he swept a small box out of his pocket and handed it to me. Inside was a diamond bracelet worth (I was sure) more than I earn in a year. I gaped at it for a second then regained my composure and pressed it back into his hands. I told him I was not so easily bought and I didn't want to see him again. He begged me keep it then, as a memento and, like a fool, I accepted. He kissed my hand and left. I went to bed un-tired and a little shaken. What now? I couldn't go to him now after what I'd said and besides I still hate him... Don't I? 


	2. Post script, should've mentioned

PS. I probably should have added a disclaimer saying I own none of this, it all belongs to Bram Stroker and the guys who wrote LXG. Keep up the good work people and don't sue me, I'm not worth it. Cowers. If you like this people, say and I'll continue but without feedback, I don't know if anyone's out there. And by the way, you don't need to be a member to review. Enjoy the Secret Diary, it's murder trying to steal a diary from a vampyre, believe me. Anyhoo, I've babbled long enough, enjoy... 


	3. Seriously

Thank you all for your comments don't be shy to say it sucks though, I don't bite (often). So here's an update nice and quickly (by my standards). Enjoy (I hope).  
~*Skaye  
  
Jan 13th  
  
Dear Diary, I'm worse than I thought. Hang it, I'm worse than Lucy was. She always used to be the one to daydream about men constantly, not me. Today I spent almost an hour at work thinking about Dorian of all people. What on earth is wrong with me? I kept thinking about his arguments, his mind, all of him, even his annoying little habit of raising one eyebrow at me like I'm an insolent child. I need to get out of here. The last thing I need is another man, another relationship, another little spell of getting inside someone else's life, gutting them and leaving them to bleed. Such is the life of a vampyre. I ruin others' lives. Mind you, with Dorian Grey that may be no bad thing, he is a spoiled fiend and he could probably use a little bleeding. No. Enough of those thoughts. I will not do this. I don't need it, I don't want it. Do I? Another bloody (pardon the pun) indecisive ending. 


	4. Showtime!

How nice to log onto my computer and find so many reviews from you fine folks, thanks and sorry I keep putting Grey instead of Gray but I live in London so my computer keeps changing the spelling to the English version. Complicated. Anyhoo, here's the update, enjoy and I must warn you the rating is going to go up in the next chapter or so (after all it is Dorian Gray) so bear with me and if you have a problem, tell me and I'll tone it down a little. Bye,  
~*Skaye  
  
Jan 14th  
  
Dear Diary, another day, another present from Dorian. A bunch of red roses and a card asking me to meet him after work tomorrow night to go to the opera. Honestly. As if I even wanted to see him again after his little gallery stunt. Somehow he guessed my favourite opera as well, Manon. It's French and contains the most beautiful aria I have ever heard. I have only seen it once with Lucy and I loved it. She got bored and started laughing at people's hats but I was crying by the end. I will most certainly not cry in front of Dorian, I will act bored and passé as if I go to the opera every week or so and couldn't care less. And I may wear red to upstage him, he always thinks he's such a rebel for wearing it in public. Work was boring, Langsdale is back and says his wife is recovering (as if I cared) and I no longer have to teach squeamish juniors.  
  
Jan 15th  
  
Dear Diary, what a day! I met up with Dorian at the opera house as promised wearing a red dress and necklace and as if to spite me, he turned up in a red suit! I acted (of course) as if I hadn't noticed but his look was unbearable. He got us fantastic seats (predictably) and although I tried to keep up my 'couldn't-care-less' act when my favourite aria started I couldn't help leaning forward in my seat just a little and almost smiling. To my surprise when I looked at him to check if he'd noticed. He wasn't even looking at me but rather was transfixed by the stage and seemed to be enjoying the song, my song, as much as I was. The nerve! So suddenly he's an avid opera fan as well as an art critic! To spite him, I commented that I found it dull and repetitive to see if he'd agree with me but he said he found the whole song and especially the flute counter melody enchanting, the very thing I said to Lucy! Now I really hate him. Afterwards he took me home and we talked the whole way about the ethics of immortality until I felt that he was getting dangerously close to hitting on my secret so I ended the conversation and found that we'd been standing talking outside my door for the past fifteen minutes. He laughed at the expression on my face when I noticed this and I felt like such an idiot. I grew angry and said as coldly as I could that I had better go inside, it was late. He said, "You know the polite thing to do would be to invite me in for tea" with such a smirk that I punched him square on the cheek. With my vampyric powers, I'm pretty strong but he didn't even flinch, he grabbed my wrist smoothly as I was pulling it back, pulled me towards him and kissed me right on the lips! Then he let me go, took a mock bow and said (politely as royalty!) "Goodnight then, Ms Harker" and swept off leaving me stunned in my doorway. I yelled something rather out of character after him at which he turned and saluted then I slammed the door, went into the parlour and collapsed into a chair, burning with what I wish I could say was just rage. I HATE Dorian Gray! If I ever meet him again I will tear out his throat and throw his sorry corpse in the Thames for the fish to eat! He may have got one over me this time but God-help-me I won't let him get away with again. Invite him in for tea indeed! I was so angry I actually went hunting the way Dracula used to and drank the blood of some poor innocent man who probably never did anything wrong in his life except stand in the wrong alley tonight. Dorian will pay.  
  
What say you all? Too much too fast? Even I'm starting to hate him now. Mwahahaha this is getting fun. Get back to me on this wouldya. Muchos grasia,  
~*Skaye 


	5. Party

This one's for my best friend, the worlds' greatest Dorian fan on Earth so we have some, um, interesting conversations since (it is already apparent, I hope) I hate the pretentious pencil pushing upstart (there, I said it.) This one's for you Harris, and for the rest of you, thanks enormously for your support, ~*Skaye P.S. Wango!!! There, ha ha, you thought I'd forgotten.  
  
Jan 18th  
  
Dear Diary, a house party to celebrate the completion of a thesis tomorrow night at a friend of Dr Langsdale's house and I've been invited to attend. Nothing majorly interesting has happened for a while except for the odd explosion at work. Magnesium is a dangerous chemical to work with and it doesn't like fire. I also discovered (after losing my eyebrows) that it's not too keen on high acids either. There is still glass embedded in the lab roof. Luckily vampyre healing powers also extend to eyebrows so I don't look like an idiot. It's going to make haircuts a little redundant from now on, however.  
  
-(Hee hee, sorry, just a little silly moment cos it's late and the mood in this story's getting a little much. Back to normal now, hope that little musing wasn't too out of character, *please don't hit me * Bye, ~*Skaye)  
  
Jan 19th  
  
Dear Diary, well it seems that wherever there is life, light and culture there is also Dorian Gray. Why can I not escape him? I tried to avoid him but as soon as he laid eyes on me, he walked over and gave one of his (now familiar) sarcastic little bows. He invited me to dance. I refused. He tried to talk to me. I ignored him. I was doing rather well until I went outside to get some air and there he was as if waiting for me. He handed me a glass of wine (which I refused) and then sat like a young boy, legs crossed, hands on his stick (something Freudian there, no doubt) on the wall near me. He asked me if I'd missed him. I said no. He leaned in to me closer than I liked and said almost conversationally but a shade darker, "I've missed you." I turned to him and said as coldly as I could, "I hate you." He smiled and said, mocking me, "With all your heart?" I looked him straight in his shining brown eyes and said sincerely, but not truthfully, "With all my heart." In one sweeping movement, he was off the wall and had me in his arms, he looked at me for a second, smiled roguishly and pulled me into a deep, breathless kiss that lasted for almost a minute then, while I was still gasping and trying to find an insult strong enough for the murderous hatred boiling inside of me, he said with a laugh, "How about now?". I practically slapped him and hissed at him, "I hate you." He kissed me again and this time I kissed him back as hard, my lips in pain from being pressed against his so hard. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him I kept telling myself but in a couple of minutes our kisses were real kisses instead of just ways to injure each other and when he eventually released me, we were both out of breath and flushed. I was just about to say something when I heard footsteps in the room leading out to the garden and we separated before Dr Langsdale came bustling out with a grin. "Ah, there you are, Mina, we were looking for you. Professor Fraser was just about to make a speech regarding his thesis, would you care to join us?" I replied that I would love to and walked primly into the house without so much as a backward glance at Dorian. I hope he was angry, I really hope he was. That must be the first time that's happened to him for a change judging by the expression on his face as I saw him leaving later on. Now I am happy. That kiss, however... I'll need to think about that as I can't seem to figure out if it is the single best or worst decision I have ever made. I suppose the very worst decision I ever made was to follow Professor Van Helsing and my dear husband to Dracula's home that night almost fifty years ago but that one is a pretty close second. My lips still ache. That man is strong, I'll give him that and he seems almost invulnerable to pain. This is complicated, he is complicated, everything is complicated. I am losing my mind and it is being replaced by a shadow that is only darkness, teeth and glowing red eyes.  
  
Wow, that was uncharacteristically deep, I'm just reading over what I wrote and wondering at the fact that I am capable of writing so... darkly. This is wandering away from my original intent but what do my readers think? Over to you, ~*Skaye 


	6. Huntress

Jan 21st  
  
Dear Diary, since I had no work today, I decided to go and take a walk around the park, a cliché but enjoyable nonetheless. Still winter, still cold and I was nearly run over by a cab on the way home. The nerve of those drivers! I am getting uncharacteristically furious at everything right now, I put the blame on Dorian Gray. I truly believe it was his kiss that woke the dormant beast inside of me and Dracula lives on. Through me his evil survives. I feel a thirst, worse than a thirst, a need for blood that is with me constantly, I almost fancy I can hear peoples' heartbeats throbbing in my head as I pass them. Should I? Shouldn't I? What harm could it do? Just one little hunt in memory of Dracula without whom I would not be alive today. I will try it; I will do it just once out of curiosity. Maybe it will also drive Dorian from my head for a while. Tonight.  
  
Later  
  
Dear Diary, though I hate to admit it and the blood under my nails and smeared on my lips repulses me, I relished it. The freedom, the hunt, the kill. It was so primal. I felt like a wild animal set loose after an eternity behind bars, night all around me; I stalked like a cat. What need was there to be afraid of the dark when I was the monster that prowled there. I was the dark fear, the predator, the nightmare that still chills even the most level headed scientist when darkness surrounds him. God...what have I become? I rant on about monsters and darkness with joy like a savage. Forgive me Jonathan, Lucy, Mother, Father, I have shamed you all and I despise myself for it. What have I become?  
  
Jan 22nd  
  
Dear Diary, in an attempt to alleviate some of my guilt about last night I went to church today and sat through the service listening to the minister drone. I laughed a little bitterly at the ancient belief that vampyres cannot stand prayers and crosses, good thing it isn't true or else I think I would have found the service a little uncomfortable. When I had my hands clasped together to pray, I had to curl my fingers under each other so that the last of the blood on my nails wouldn't be visible. On my way home, I stopped briefly to post a card into Dorian's door since I have his address now. It said on it:  
What's the matter love?  
Not speaking to me anymore?  
That's a shame because I was  
Going to meet you in the gallery  
At six this evening to talk  
But it looks like I'll be talking to  
A painting instead, oh well.  
It'll probably be better conversation  
Anyway, love. Maybe I'll see you  
Maybe I won't, until then,  
Mina  
  
Then, confident that this would spur him into meeting with me I went home to change, midnight blue this time with the bracelet he gave me on our first meeting (not including the party, that was more like an extended exchange of insults.) Mind you, I suppose that's what our whole friendship (can it be called that?) has been so far. Why am I doing this? Meeting him again after what happened last time. I must have lost my mind. 


	7. a little author's note

A little author's note.  
  
So there you have it, half way through if all goes according to plan. I really hope you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. It's an experience to get into a character's head and attempt to write their diary. It's getting darker than I intended but that's the side that fascinates me so if you don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that. If you have read any of my reviews, that big one is form my loony best friend who saw through my writers alias and is now using this to torment me for my treatment of the "divine" Dorian Gray. Ha, I'll make cheese out of him, mwahahaha. That was an evil laugh for those who don't know what it looks like. Perhaps the eyebrows and haircuts clip was a little silly, out of character maybe? Let me know, more coming soon, ~*Skaye. 


	8. Secrets

Is anyone still out there reading? Come on, don't be shy. As previously mentioned, I don't bite (much). Harris, it's nice to know you're enjoying it but DORIANSBABE?!?!?!?! What kind of a name is that? You need therapy. Let me know your new email adress as soon as you get it. Enjoy part seven everybody.  
  
On with the show we go...~*Skaye  
  
Jan 22nd cont  
  
Dear Diary, true to form, Dorian showed up at the gallery smiling (as he always does) like he's King of the world. His expensive clothes and upper- class drawl are usually enough to prevent ordinary people from presenting any arguments to the contrary. Except me. His superior smirk or infuriating self-confidence does not intimidate me. He offered me his arm and for once I took it. We walked around the gallery talking about paintings like normal friends until just before we parted ways at the entrance, he pulled me into an empty room. Still holding me by the arm, turned to me and hissed, "That wasn't very nice of you Mina, to walk off and leave me at that party." I smiled and said, "Well it wasn't very nice of you to patronise me and treat me like your toy to just kiss and then ditch." He rolled his eyes, slightly angry, "I suppose that makes us even?" I smiled again, this time more cruelly, "No Dorian, not even close." He looked angrier about this and said, "I am not accustomed to being on the receiving end of revenge, Miss Harker, and there is a good reason for it. Most of the people who attempt revenge on me tend to not last very long." All humour was now gone from the conversation. "I think you'll find I'm a little different. I also think you'd better get used to being on the receiving end of revenge or else I'll be throwing you in at the deep end, so to speak. And by the way, it's Mrs Harker." "You're a devious woman, Mrs Harker, and I like you. I would really regret doing you any serious harm." I held out my arm to him, palm up. "Try it then, come on, break my arm." I said with complete sincerity. He looked at me like I was out of my mind. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Mina, I have never stalled from violence before but then I've never had an enemy invite me to injure them before." I smiled sweetly and thrust my arm at him. "Come on, try. I'm sure you'll enjoy it if you are so anxious to hurt me." "You'll tell the police." "Then come back to my house, do it there. I guarantee I will tell no-one. And don't worry about a hospital, I don't think that will be necessary." He looked thoroughly enraged now. "You think I'm too weak to break a woman's arm, don't you?" "I'm not sure, you don't exactly look like the athletic type but I've been proven wrong before. Try and we'll see." "How far to your house?" "Twenty minutes walking, five by cab." "We'll get a cab" We went outside and he hailed one. The horses stamped and tossed their heads, cold and impatient. I could relate. I wanted to see his face when he realised I wasn't just an ordinary woman, when he saw how much more powerful I am than he is. The cab clattered along to my house, a small place Jonathan and me had since we were married. I opened the door and let Dorian in first with a little mutter of "Ladies first" He looked even angrier. I truly believed I was beating him at his own game. He was losing his temper. I took off my coat and scarf and offered him my arm. "Now the moment, Dorian. Can you or can you not break my arm?" He smirked and reached for my arm. He paused for a moment then took my arm and wrenched it so hard it snapped. He was strong. I yelled in pain but held up my arm which was rapidly healing. I bent it back and forwards then wiggled my fingers to show him it was healed. I laughed with delight at the expression on his face then to my absolute horror, he took a gun from his belt, drew back the hammer and shot a bullet right through his head. I screamed and leapt to where he was now lying on my floor. I was panicking and checking his head over for a bullet wound. There was no blood. Before I had time to be surprised, he leapt o his knees bowling me over and grinned. I looked at him now with disbelief and jumped up about to throw my arms around his neck but I held back. He laughed at me and then, at the furious look on my face kissed me, gentler than before. He broke away after a minute and said softly, teasing but not unkind, "You were right, you are a little different. What's your secret?" I looked at him suspiciously. "You tell me yours first so I know I can trust you." "Mina, don't you trust me by now?" "Assume I don't." "You won't believe me." I considered this. "Dorian, I just saw you shoot yourself in the temple from a range of less than six inches, under those circumstances I'm willing to take a little leap of faith, wouldn't you say?" "Well, I would if it was anyone but you." "Fine, here's my big secret," I began, inwardly in disbelief at myself that I was just about to tell someone my darkest secret. Dorian of all people, but I ploughed on, "A long time ago..." "Oh, it's going to be one of THOSE stories, just don't end it with 'happily ever after' will you darling?" "Do you want to hear my story or not and incidentally, I'm not your darling." "All right then, dear." "Shut up" "Get on with it" "ALRIGHT" I yelled, "a long time ago my husband Jonathan was sent on a commission to a nobleman or something in Transylvania, Count Dracula. He was an immortal, don't laugh, he was a vampyre. You know, of the bloodsucking, super-strong variety. This man was interested in purchasing property in London near where Jonathan and I lived at the time. A lot of things happened including the death of my best friend but at the end of it all Dracula was dead and I was a vampyre." I finished and looked up at him to gauge his reaction. He was looking at me sincerely and, maybe it was just my imagination, concerned. To break the silence I shook my head, very conscious of the fact that I was still sitting on the floor with a man I had only known for about three weeks. "So I've told you my secret, what's yours?" He laughed airily, "A gun that fires blanks. And I must say I had you quite marvellously fooled, darling." "I'm not so stupid Dorian, I saw the bullet leave the gun and I saw the wound it made in your head and how it healed. I think you would have to be a rather unusually skilled illusionist to fake that. Or you're lying to me." He sighed as one might when one is asked a rather stupid question by a child, "Alright, you forced it out of me," he hesitated as well and I wondered if his thoughts were the same as mine at that moment. "I was a normal, high born child once. It's just that that was over four hundred years ago. I was cursed one day with immortality and invulnerability which, at the time, I would have killed for. Now I would die to be without." He looked me in the eye and that, I think, was the only time he ever let me see his true emotion or showed any weakness. That was the moment I fell in love with him. "You know how it feels, don't you Mina? To see everyone you love die, watch people you knew as a child age and die while you remain the same through all eternity." A tear rolled down my normally cold cheek as I looked into his face and saw not a cynical, arrogant aristocrat who thinks he's seen it all but a lonely, grief struck man who has seen more than he wishes. I took his hand and hoarsely muttered, "Yes." Then we kissed, for ages, it seemed and yet not long enough, sitting on my floor with a bullet still lying there from when he had put it through his head and nothing else but the ticking of the clock and the beating of each others hearts.  
  
Wow, if any of you ever tells anyone that I wrote something so romantic I will hunt you down and maim you, comprende? Hope you Mina&Dorian people liked that and you Dorian haters liked seeing him getting shot. Back soon with more, ~*Skaye. 


	9. Love?

Blimey, I ask for a review and I get a concise guide to the history of English Literature, I do apologise for getting Dorian's age wrong. I had no idea what it was and he seemed a little, um, worldly for only 100 plus all that babble about seeing the future become history. Elf of Avalon: Thanks immensely for pointing out my little error, a Silvan, huh? Not many of them around. Are you of the Nandorin or the Sindar origin? I'd do the same thing with my name except Vampyre of Roehampton doesn't have nearly the same ring to it. I thank you again for pointing that out before I have hordes of Oscar Wilde fans baying for my blood, I'm pushing it as it is. Carry on keeping me right. Sorry for the delay, here it is at last, ~*Skaye.  
  
Jan 23rd  
  
Dear Diary, he stayed for all of last night and we talked for hours. I told him everything that had happened to me since the day Jonathan had left for Transylvania. I asked him about himself and he was curiously vague for a man who delights so much in stories about himself. He told me of friends he had double crossed, women he had cheated on and things he had won. I wonder if he was trying to put me off so I'd order him to leave and he could feel superior to me in my anger again. It almost worked, he was in the middle of describing how he had got revenge on a man who had swindled him by sleeping with his wife and he was getting too graphic so I stood up and told him to leave. He didn't. I walked over to the chair in which he was sitting, legs crossed, sprawled like a bored ten-year-old. I grabbed his arms and tried to pull him to his feet. He just grinned like an idiot and sat staring at me amused. I grew angry and tried in one yank to pull him to his feet but he pulled me down and started kissing me. I bit his lip but all he did was mutter "Ow" and kiss me again. He pulled my hair out of its bun and ran his hands through it almost tugging it out. I pulled at his hair but he just laughed like it was a game and pulled my coat off me. We continued competing, lips still locked, occasionally biting or raking our nails across each other. The last thing I remembered was falling heavily on to my bed with him following me for the first time I had ever seen him with messy hair which struck me as a little odd upon reflection. I would like, at least, to say that is all I remember but I will not recount the rest in this diary. That will stay safely filed and locked in my mind where no one can ever see it, me giving in to Dorian. It makes me tremble with fury that he got me so easily after only a couple of weeks of knowing me. I hate him. He left in the evening with a deep bow and a smirk and a promise to call on me again. I wonder how many women he has said that to. I wonder if I will ever see him again. I wonder why I care. I just realised that I had missed work today and swore. I will be in tomorrow very early with an excuse and an apology. 


	10. Betrayal

Sorry this one's been ages (over a month) in coming but I've got a friend going through a rough patch (Harris knows what I'm on about) plus exams and damn, why am I being so daft. It's here now, thanks for your patience and thanks especially to DoriansBabe (stupid name anyway) and Elf of Avalon (lifesaver and always has something nice to say.) Here goes nothing, ~*Skaye  
  
Jan 24th  
  
Dear Diary, work was dreadful, nobody noticed I was gone yesterday apparently. I sometimes wonder just why I do this job. Apart from Chemistry is my passion and I need the money. It looks like I just answered my own question, oh how Dorian would laugh at me. I keep thinking of him and not with my customary rage. I think of him with affection verging on love. No! That is too far, I barely know him, a few days ago I hated him and now... Everything is different. I spilled a beaker of ammonium sulphate on my hands in my fury. Perfect. Just perfect. What have I become? I am not myself. I have been plucked from my life, whirled around and set back on my feet and now my life seems new to me. Does he feel the same way? Part of me still says 'Who the devil cares?' but that part is becoming increasingly more ignored. I nearly lost my cool at a young intern who joked that maybe my absence previously was due to a new lover I wanted to get more "acquainted" with. I turned to him with an icy glare and I swear my eyes flashed red. He didn't see, thankfully, he was looking at his feet. It is a great gift, being able to outstare almost anybody and I was good at it even before I was a vampyre. I was already feeling uneasy enough about Dorian without brainless interns making things more complicated. When I got home, there was a card on my doorstep. I knew the handwriting and could tell who it was from. Not to my liking. It read:  
Dear Mina, it appears I have won our little game, I got you. But a game was all it is. You were fun, I was foolish. I am leaving for Paris and you are going to get on with your life. Goodbye, Dorian  
  
I threw the card to the floor in rage feeling my eyes redden and not caring. I flung off my coat and hat and leapt out into the night. I flew in a blur of bats (a new experience) to his house to find it empty. I screamed at the dark window and vented my fury attacking and killing the first three people I found. One was a governess who asked me if I was alright, the second was a delivery boy on his way home from work and the third was a drunk man staggering along the street who gaped stupidly at me before giving a half scream as my fangs tore into his throat. I scraped back in through my window, moonlight on my back, blood on my lips. I hate him. Dorian will bleed, Dorian will die. I swear the next throat I tear out will be his. 


	11. Revenge Pt I

Thank you for all your nice reviews and if you think I'm kicking Gray out of the story just yet you've got another thing coming. I'm not done with him yet *rolls up sleeves* Already written next part but I still don't quite like it so it'll be up when I'm satisfied it's readable. Until then...  
  
Jan 27th  
  
Dear Diary, it has been three days since his departure and I am exceptionally ashamed to admit that they have been three of the emptiest days of my life since Jonathan's death. My poor dear husband, what would he think of me now? With innocent blood on my hands and an obsession over a vain, self centred aristocrat. I thought I saw something in him, vulnerability shielded by an iron wall of dignity and resolve, it reminded me of myself but I was wrong. He played my like a game and left me. Forgive me Jonathan.  
  
All right, now I know I have lost my mind, I am speaking to my dead husband in a diary. What happened to my common sense that so delighted Lucy and impressed my seniors at work? Where has my cold front and solid dignity gone? Dorian has robbed me of those. I will have them back, I will not dream of vengeance or live out my life in silly fantasies of his death at my murderous hands. I will be myself again and I will NOT let him have such power over me. Starting now my life is my own, not Dracula's, not Dorian's, not even Jonathan's. I am Mina Harker and I am alone.  
  
Jan 28th  
  
Dear Diary, people at work have definitely noticed the change in me. Dr Langsdale looks at me with concern and asked me if I needed some time off. I told him I was quite all right and could continue work. He shook his head but did not try to stop me. Let them worry, what have I to fear anymore? I got all my work finished much earlier than usual and was half way home before my stomach reminded me that this was because I forgot to take a lunch break. Typical, an immortal semi-demon who nearly keels over when she misses a meal. How Lucy would laugh. I seem to be thinking about my past an awful lot lately, it cannot be healthy. I blame Dorian but then I seem to be blaming him for everything right now, if the building I work in came falling down around my ears tomorrow I would probably blame him. Day finished rather enjoyably apart from the cabbie on the way home noticed a spot of blood on my neck as I was paying him. I had to tell him I worked at a hospital. More or less the truth, I do work with doctors and I would be one if it was not almost forbidden for women to study at university, Dr Langsdale is often telling me I have the potential.  
  
Jan 30th  
  
Dear Diary, at work today I overheard one of Dr Langsdale's friends speaking of Dorian so, curious, I asked him what the news was. He was somewhat hesitant at telling me, apparently there are rumours flying about regarding Dorian and myself, but with one long, hard stare, he confessed that Dorian is supposed to be returning to London next week for reasons undisclosed. How perfect. I smiled in a way that the men didn't like, something like 'a cat which has just seen the bird that got away' were the exact words Dr Kells used when he thought I couldn't hear. What do I care what they think? I have revenge to wreak. Next week. I have not looked to a date with such grim anticipation since that journey to Transylvania all those years ago. Each time usually precedes bloodshed.  
  
P.S. I took on board the suggestion of attempting the whole movie from Mina's POV and if that's something you'd read then say so and I'll give it a go. I mean, how hard could it be? Wait, don't say how hard it could be or I might reconsider. Ah well, get back to me on it. 


	12. Redundancy

Thank you so much for your replies, I have no excuse now. I will get writing (Easter holidays just coming up, perfect) and get it back to you really soon. Melanie, just read this chapter and see if you want to try and stop her getting revenge, might not be quite as expected. Thanks again to all, you're angels, ~*Skaye  
  
Feb 5th  
  
Dear Diary, I am outraged, I got into work today and Dr Langsdale, my employer and trusted friend, the man who gave me work as a chemist when no- one else would take in a woman called me to his office for 'a quick chat'. He told me he was concerned for me and the condition I have been in lately and also that he has suspicions about Dorian and I. Apparently many of his older colleagues who are friends with Dorian think they know things (some truth but ridiculously embellished) and are laughing at Langsdale for employing me. They seem to be of the opinion that women are a distraction and having one in his place of work (especially one with my recently acquired reputation) is a bad idea. Before he could fire me I lost my temper at him and yelled that none of it was true and I was ashamed at him for believing any of it. I had really thought him more intelligent and therefore above believing such ridiculous rumours. I was aware of my eyes beginning to turn red and bit back my temper. He apologised and offered me a bonus to get by on. I refused and walked off still furious. Soon Dorian will be home, I can get my revenge and look for a new job. I will never do as well as that, I know. Chemistry is one of the few things I enjoy and now I'm going to end up as a teacher or worse, a governess. I attacked a newspaper boy on the way home to try and cheer myself up, it didn't work. To make maters worse, when I eventually got home, there was a delivery boy on my doorstep with a message from Langsdale. He sent me a large book on chemistry, some money and a note saying:  
Sorry it had to be this way Wilhemina, I did it for the good of the  
company. It was a pleasure working with you and I wish you the best of  
luck. Perhaps you can even look on this incident as a valuable lesson  
about work ethics. See it as a beneficial tragedy, sweet sorrow, Mina.  
All the best, Dr Douglas Langsdale.  
  
I tore his note to shreds and gave the money to the delivery boy. Valuable lesson, indeed. Perhaps I could kill him instead, send his severed head to his wife along with a note saying, 'Dear Madam, sincerest apologies for the condition of your husband but it was felt by all that this would prove a valuable lesson for him. Beneficial tragedy, you know. All the best, Ms Wilhemina Harker.'  
  
Ha, yes, that would show him. That was a thought worthy of Dracula. Why did I take such pleasure in planning the murder of a man who was my close friend for so long? Rational thinking back into play, I think it's about time to go Dorian hunting. 


	13. Return

Thank you again, I was going to wait for a while before I posted this one but I'm excited about beginning the new one now so it seemed appropriate to move things along a little faster. Artistic self-restraint out the window for a second. Enjoy, ~*Skaye.  
  
Feb 6th  
  
AM  
  
Dear Diary, as I was no longer obliged to go to work today, I was free to take my time investigating the station where Dorian should be arriving. His train arrives from Portsmouth at approximately 5.00 this evening although knowing the train times, it may be 6.00 before it actually shows up. Never mind, I can wait. I would wait for years for this. So he thinks I am a game to be played does he? I'll show him I don't play by his rules. Looked around some of the places at this end of town while I am here. It is funny, I have lived so long in this city and yet I have never been to this part. I live in Bayswater and work in Holborn so I never have reason to go much further south than Kensington. 'Metropolitan' and 'vampire' do not seem to mix, indeed, Dracula's reason for moving here, according to Jonathan was to be nearer people. This was a spectacular failure as he tended to stick out like the one waking man among a crowd of sleepwalkers. Or so it seemed to me. I wonder if I stick out so obviously. I wonder why I am asking such questions other than to pass time. Shops are such tedious places when one has seen over thirty all almost identical.  
  
PM Dear Diary, my revenge did not go at all according to plan. I expected to follow him home from the station keeping to the shadows like a hunter and then when he looked around once he was safe indoors, I would be there and I would bite his neck and tear his throat out. I went over it countless times in my head to make sure it was foolproof and sedate a little of my anger but it did not go like that at all. It went well until he got home and, although I was silent in the shadows near his door, he called out airily, "Hello, lover" and my cover was blown. I stepped out fuming, my eyes turning red until he mouthed 'not here' and gestured towards the footman taking his luggage indoors. I walked in, seized the footman and broke his neck with one motion. Not fair but I was really angry about Dorian ruining my plan. He merely raised one eyebrow and said "You're not too happy with me, are you darling?"  
  
I kept my temper and explained to him that I am not a game and he did not win. He smirked and said, "Then why are you here? If you got the last word last time then surely there is no need to be here."  
  
"The last word does not clinch a victory, dear," I said thinking that two could play at that game, "I was unsatisfied with you sneaking out like a criminal. I have come here to kill you."  
  
He smiled like I was a child who had said something particularly whimsical.  
  
"You mean, of course, that you came here to try to kill me. I can't be killed remember."  
  
"Then I will settle for an explanation."  
  
"Will you, indeed?"  
  
"If you tell me why you left me like that having told me your secret then I will leave and not bother you again."  
  
"An interesting idea," he half-smiled pretending to think it over, "I don't think I shall, I see no reason to since you are no possible threat to me."  
  
"You're cruel, you know that."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"I have thought of little else but my revenge on you since I discovered that you had left and now you come back so disgustingly nonchalant."  
  
"It's a hobby, light of my life."  
  
"Stop calling me names, Dorian, that's so juvenile."  
  
"And playing hide and seek on the way home from the station is a shining example of mature behaviour?"  
  
"Shut up"  
  
"Testy, my sweet?"  
  
At that point, I lost my cool and leapt at him my hair flying free of it's bonds at the back of my head and my eyes turning scarlet. At that moment I would have killed him if I had had half the chance but as I leapt at him, he held out his arms as if to embrace me and held me, breathing into my hair that he had missed me too. I sprang back from him. "Not again, Dorian."  
  
"No, really, Mina. I feel I owe you for that cowardly display of fear of commitment. Ask my previous women, they'll tell you they encountered similar problems."  
  
"I would never be seen socialising with women like that"  
  
"Like what?" he smirked "Like you?"  
  
That rendered me speechless. He laughed out loud at the outraged look on my face then took my arm and led me to the parlour of his house. I refused his arm but walked with him anyway. I still have no idea why I went along with him. I still insist to myself that I hate him but I did anyway. It has always been my weakness, it is why I let Dracula so easily take me and look at where that has landed me. After kissing violently for a few minutes, Dorian straightened himself, flicked back his hair and said, "Now really, love, I must get some dinner. I am half famished and so are you."  
  
"I hate you, you know." I replied.  
  
He just grinned, "Of course you do."  
  
"Don't you dare take that condescending tone with me." I growled.  
  
"Or you'll what," he replied, lightly, "Kiss me to death? Smother me in childish insults?"  
  
"You're a fine one to talk about childish insults, Mr Gray," I said, imitating his facetious tone, "As I recall it was you who called Professor Fraser a pompous, self-satisfied know-it-all."  
  
"And it was you, Madam Harker, who agreed with me."  
  
"I was humouring you."  
  
"Ha, and you call me condescending."  
  
"You still haven't given me an explanation for your actions."  
  
"And I don't intend to."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Simply because it's more fun this way. Besides, if I told you then you would leave satisfied and I enjoy your company almost as much as your indignance."  
  
"I really hate you."  
  
"Ah, but do you darling? For one who hates me so your kisses carry such conviction I am almost tempted to disagree."  
  
"You are absolutely despicable"  
  
"And you are a very poor liar, you don't hate me any more than you hated Dracula."  
  
"How dare you..." My eyes began to heat and turn red and my fangs became more prominent.  
  
"Because I can, lover, simply because I can."  
  
"I'm leaving."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Already?"  
  
"Goodbye." "So you say."  
  
I got up to leave but Dorian grabbed hold of my scarf. His childishness never ceases to amaze me. I told him so. He laughed and twined my scarf around his hand.  
  
"Dorian, release me."  
  
"Don't feel like it, lover. Looks like you're going to have to stay here and do some explaining of your own."  
  
"What could I possibly have to explain. I haven't done anything that requires explanation."  
  
"Coming after me?"  
  
"I already explained that was for revenge."  
  
"Do I really mean that much to you?"  
  
"No but I..."  
  
For once I was completely speechless. I opted for silence and tried to pull free again.  
  
"An answer, Mina."  
  
"Let go, Dorian."  
  
"When I have an answer."  
  
"You have your answer now let me go."  
  
"No I don't and no I won't."  
  
I lashed out towards him, eyes blazing, hair flying. He looked prepared and kissed me again. I bit his lip but kissed him anyway. After that, I will report nothing except that it serves to say I didn't leave that night. 


	14. Revenge Pt II

Here we go, the penultimate (second last) chapter. Then I can get started on the movie itself. Thanks to Elf of Avalon for pointing out my little grammar error, I will get that fixed asap. Thanks to DoriansBabe as well for the idea of blackmail (ahem, I'm coming to kill you.) Hope this is worth waiting for, it's revenge time *rolls up sleeves and licks lips*. On with the show again, ~*Skaye.  
  
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF GORE, HORROR AND YUCKY STUFF. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.  
  
Feb 7th  
  
AM Dear Diary, it appears that revenge has slipped down my list of priorities. Way down. It is a shame as I now feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I am amazed and repulsed anew every time my thoughts slip back to bloody revenge so easily. It is becoming second nature to me. This is currently irrelevant. The issue at stake here is that I am at Dorian's house, it is morning and he is gone. Again. Can I just go one day without a terrible flaw in judgement? Probably not. Not around him at least.  
  
He returned home at around lunchtime looking exceptionally pleased with himself so I was instantly suspicious. He is the type of man who takes great pleasure in doing this to people so he spent the whole afternoon grinning like the Cheshire Cat and dropping cryptic little hints about a gift. He finally invited me to dinner this evening and, having seen him acting like this al day I feel I simply must see what he has done. It will be back at his house at nine and he said wear red. So I will wear black. Childish, yes, but I have not forgiven him and little things like this really get to him.  
  
PM Dear Diary, this evening was...how can I possibly sum it up? I won't. It's impossible. I haven't even decided how to react yet. Maybe writing it out will help to straighten my mind out. God, I wish I could figure this out, my mind is a maelstrom.  
  
It began promisingly enough, I arrived at Dorian's house ten minutes late wearing black (naturally) and went to his dining room. He was sitting quite patiently listening to a piece of piano and cello music on a gramophone (ghastly scratchy machines.) Dinner was served shortly, a kind of light soup followed by rare steak with salad and flat bread. The wine looked curious until I realised it was blood. Human blood kept warm and served to me. I was suspicious, why would Dorian be so...thoughtful? He looked on the verge of smiling all evening but kept his sneer in place until dessert (trifle laced with yet more blood) was finished. Then over coffee, conversation began.  
  
"So, Mina," he said, casually, "How has your life been progressing this last week or so."  
  
I scowled, could he possibly know about my recent redundancy? It wasn't impossible, he did have connections with Langsdale. Better to just be honest.  
  
"I lost my job. Because of you. Because you could not keep your mouth shut in front of your foolish gentlemen friends."  
  
He raised his eyebrows a little and feigned a look of sympathy. It made me want to hit him. Maybe a bloody revenge is not such a remote possibility.  
  
"That pompous ass probably couldn't see your dazzling potential, darling."  
  
"Dazzling potential? I have no dazzling potential and if you call me that once more I will tear off your head and send it to those same idiot gentlemen friends that cost me my job."  
  
He grinned a little. "I'm sure that will be a valuable lesson for me." I paled at the implications of his words. It had to be coincidence. It just had to be coincidence. "What did you say?"  
  
"About dazzling potential?" he continued casually, "Well it's really rather obvious when you know..."  
  
"I didn't mean that, about the valuable lesson." I was becoming nervous. If this meant what I thought it meant, it was trouble.  
  
"Well I think I quoted correctly, let me check." And to my horror, he pulled out a torn page of my diary. This very diary in which I write. "It says 'Perhaps I could kill him instead, send his severed head to his wife along with a note saying...'"  
  
"Stop, what have you done? What in Gods name have you DONE, Dorian?" I was panicking by now, eyes red, fangs bared and he was loving it. He shrugged and tucked the piece of paper into his pocket.  
  
"Exactly what your 'Dear Diary' said, darling. And more."  
  
I felt sick. "You monster," I breathed, "You murdered an innocent man."  
  
He stayed cool and shrugged, "At least I don't drink them."  
  
"I didn't drink Langsdale, I only do when I must."  
  
"That's what you think."  
  
I was puzzled for a second then reality hit and I nearly wretched. I turned incredibly pale and stumbled backwards a little.  
  
"You didn't..." I said faintly.  
  
His smile said plainly that he did and furthermore that he would do it again. He raised a glass to me in a kind of sarcastic toast.  
  
"It is only a beneficial tragedy, my love, sweet sorrow."  
  
I couldn't stand it, I leapt at him, and fangs bared looked to his throat. I wanted to do this for so long. My teeth ripped through his skin easily and blood gushed free. He screamed. Not for long. I already knew at the time that it would not kill him. I stepped back to leave him bleeding on the floor and, my head now icily clear, an idea hit me. I paced backwards to his gramophone and put on a new disk. The training Jonathan gave me for helping him work would not go entirely unused. I pressed the recording button just as Dorian got to his feet, furious now. He seemed invulnerable to pain as well, more's the pity. He would be easy to trick in this state. Perfect.  
  
"Dorian," I said, coolly, "Did you kill Dr Langsdale and send his head to his wife with a note with my name attached?"  
  
"Yes," he yelled, mopping blood from his neck as it healed, "That was why I was gone all morning you asinine woman." I stopped the disk from recording without him ever noticing and slipped it under my coat 


	15. Sweet Sorrow

The final chapter *sniff*, my first story and it's almost over. My much- repeated thanks for your support, I hope it has satisfied you and I hope this ending does your expectations justice, not an all out action climax, just Mina's power speech and Dorian's arrest. I have already started on the movie but I want to finish this first. I guess this is the end for now. Bye, ~*Skaye x.  
  
P.S. Thanks for the bat, Harris, I just LOVE him.  
  
Feb 8th  
  
AM Dear Diary, I got home last night late with the disk and puzzled for an age about what I should do with it. There will be a warrant for my arrest for the murder of Langsdale and this disk could clear my name. But if I go to the police, they may just arrest me and Dorian will go free. That would be unbearable. What should I do? They will soon search my home and then I will have to run. I wish I had made that pompous idiot bleed more but it would have done little real good, he is immortal. I am nervous about writing anything in here after all that has happened but Dorian's arrest should clear that up too. If I am to go to the police, it must be soon before my home is surrounded by fifty armed officers. Yes, I will go. After I clean the blood from my hair. Dorian's blood, it is very satisfying. Must it be a pattern of my relationships that my lover ends up covered in blood? Is it a vampire trait or a Mina Harker trait? Time to go.  
  
PM  
  
Dear Diary, I now consider my revenge complete, I handed in the disk and the police (after some questions) were incredibly apologetic for accusing me and have sworn to arrest "the real fiend". He will relish being called that, I can still scarcely believe that I drank his blood and it will bring a smile to my face for years to come remembering how my fangs sank into his neck. I had dreamed of tearing his throat out and I seem to be one of the incredibly lucky few who live their dreams. He will not allow himself to be arrested, I am sure of that. He has the means and the influence to bribe, blackmail and lie his way out of just about anything, I am positive something so trivial as a murder charge will be of little consequence to him. He has killed before, I am sure of that but it is a novel experience for him to be caught.  
  
I have recovered and burned the page of my diary which he stole although it still disturbs me that he got it so easily. I am going to move house at some point soon. Perhaps I am being paranoid but I was ever a patron of the rule that it is better to be safe than sorry. And I would be most sorry if I had to lay hands on his vile little neck again because I caught him skulking about my house and reading my diary. He really is phenomenally juvenile. Perhaps this will be a valuable lesson for him, beneficial tragedy. Sweet sorrow.  
  
I know I will never get a career as good as my job with Langsdale's chemical firm but I could not work there with his co-workers gossiping about my personal affairs. I will not be an accessory to a company which doubts my fidelity. I am a woman and a worker and first thing tomorrow I am going to look for another job. 


End file.
